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On the other hand if fortune had happened to place Mr. James J. Hill a little farther north in Winnipeg instead of in St. But somehow it were useless to deny it Englishmen would think of him as quite a different man. Mr. C. M. Hays in Montreal is still what he was in St. Louis Charlie Hays. He will not change his nature when he becomes Lord Muskoka.
"But y' don't play kiards, do you?" Muskoka asked incredulously. "Now I bet you don't. Or smoke? Or chew? Or any of them wicked " "Here are some cigarettes the other man left." Hopefully the boy extended the package to have it snatched from his hand, scramblingly emptied, and the box flipped ceilingward. In falling the box brought further trouble.
The next moment, with a shout, he was on his feet in the middle of the floor, and the nerve-strung boy had fainted. As the lad sank forward his "pistol" fell from his hand and rolled into the light. From Burns came an inarticulate cry, his jaw dropped, his eyes started in his head. Muskoka halted in his stride, wet his lips and muttered incredulous words of admiration and amazement.
There was a second, then a rush of hoofs, and a party of cowboys came into view. It was the "welcoming committee" of the Bar-O ranch, the "outfit" referred to by the operator at Exeter. With a final whoop the cowmen thundered up to the station platform, and dismounted. Muskoka Jones, a huge, heavily-moustached ranchman over six feet in height, was first to reach the open window.
"What is it, Muskoka?" he shouted as the ponies approached. The cow-puncher pulled up all-standing within a foot of the platform. "There's been an explosion at the Pine Lode, kid, and ten men are bottled up somewhere in the lower level. Two men got in through a small hole the mouth of the mine is blocked and one of them is tapping on the iron pump-pipe.
Examinations were over at last, and I was wondering where I should spend my holidays. The choice was very wide; ranging from the Muskoka lakes to the Yosemite Valley. Because it was my first year in Canada, I really preferred not to go beyond the Dominion. With these thoughts in my mind I opened my letters. The first two did not interest me; tradesmen's bills seldom do.
"I'm going back to the station for another operator. I'm going to take your Johnny hoss. Mine's blowed." "Sure yes," agreed the owner, and with a "Good luck, kid," Muskoka was clattering down the path. "Now, Mr. Bartlett, will you please explain the plan of things inside; just how the tunnel runs?" requested Wilson. "Have a seat and I'll draw it," said the boss, setting the example.
Understanding or not, Big Bill declined to remain, and stormed out the door, announcing that he would get someone down from the Bar-O ranch. Half an hour later Muskoka Jones appeared. "Good evening. I'm sorry it was necessary to trouble you, sir," apologized Wilson. "Good evening, Willie. Don't mention it," was the big cowman's scornful response.
When Tarhe and his band of Hurons lived in Canada their home was in the Muskoka Lakes region on the Moon river. The old warriors tell wonderful stories of the beauty of that country. Tarhe took captive some French travellers, among them a woman named La Durante. She had a beautiful little girl. The prisoners, except this little girl, were released. When she grew up Tarhe married her.
Thus was it the young "dude" operator proved himself, and came into possession of a handsome pearl-handled Colt's revolver and, early the following morning, from a "committee" of the Bar-O cowmen, headed by Muskoka Jones, a fine high-crowned, silver-spangled Mexican sombrero, to take the place of the hat they had destroyed, and "as a mark of esteem for the pluckiest little operator ever sent to Bonepile."
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